Black Harvest

Synopsis: A high elf warlock discovers a powerful weapon that steals souls and amplifies her control over fel magic and demons. Follow her through her journey to discover love, glory and happiness. Or will she fall to the shadows? Yuri.

A/N: The prologue takes place before Wrath of the Lich King. At this point they're still high elves. I believe the time frame between each expansion is about 20 years. This means the MC is 15 in the prologue, 27 in chapter one, 47 in wrath, 67 in cataclysm, 87 in Mists, 107 in Draenor and 127 in Legion . Also because elves age slower than humans, their juveniles remain kids until 30. Middle age would be around 100 or so and so on.

Now, here's a little more information about the fanfic. From a few fics I've read, some people seem to avoid the darker realities of war. They skip over the actual fighting, killing, murder and horrific rituals. With this fanfic taking place during Legion, I'll do my best to write adequate details of blood spilling, the burning of flames and crunching and cracking of bones. Plus, of course the adjectives to accommodate sex and lewdness.

Pairings haven't quite been decided yet.

Disclaimer: World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. (If I was CEO, I'd change several things but that's just me). Also, sorry for long author's note. Do me a favor and please enjoy the story and please leave a review if not a simple comment!

"Normal Speech"

'Thinking'

"Demon Speech"

Ship/Skyship Names or Book Names

'Demon Thinking'

Prologue

A chorus of caws echoed throughout the dreary atmosphere of the cemetery. Adding to the clamor was the baritone gong of a bronze bell echoing for miles, which chimed high in a church tower. Most of the trees had relinquished their precious extensions with great reluctance leaves, and bleached skeletons hung limply among the their bare branches from witch trials years past. A blanket of crispy autumn leaves covered the ground as a chilling wind howled.

Upon a low hill was a gathering of the entire village. The monochrome color of choice was the blackest of blacks, regardless of their social statuses. A malaise of sadness washed over the valley as tears of the heavens crashed to earth. Each and every single one of them were elves. Quel'dorei to be exact. A funeral and a hanging in the same day, same place. A grim day for the proud people.

Standing away from the crowd of grieving villagers was a young girl in ratty burlap rags. Unkempt hair the shade of freshly spilled blood rested on dirty shoulders. Her fel-green eyes blinked without emotion. Her slender form showed evidence of malnutrition and abuse. Beneath a weeping willow, she stared unblinkingly at the gallows in the middle of town square. A ripped doll dangled loosely in her grip, but not tearing.

One man squinted over at the lone orphan watching the group. He felt bad she was on her lonesome without a parent nor guardian to speak of. No child should wear clothes so tattered and torn. He made to approach her, but a surprisingly firm hand jerked him back.

"Don't!" hissed an old woman, a crone with a mole on her nose: the great grandmother of the couple suspended by a noose. A wrinkly, grubby finger pointed menacingly at the child, "Best ye stay clear of the orphan girl. She be a pox upon us all, tainted by the Legion!"

Appearing a little spooked by the hag's harsh claims, the young man finally asked, "Why do you speak so ill of the poor little orphaned elf? She seems normal to me and a little lonely even. Quiet seeming, but not evil. She needs someone to be her caretaker."

With a harrumph, the old woman said, "Don't waste your breath kid. Heed my warning lad, or so ye shall regret when the toll for your decision is death!" Pinching the man's knife-like ear, the elder pulled the curious male back to the procession where plenty of folks were sobbing for those whose lives were cut short on trial of being a traitor and co-conspirators.

No one knows who threw it, but a stray stone soared through the air, it's intent to strike the girl. Every soul who was watching expected the child to be pelted in the face. As it hit right between the eyes, the most unexpected occurrence took place: her entire body exploded into a flock of blackbirds that took off in every-which direction,

"Why, that's no mere girl!" shouted the man whom had tied the rope around each victim's necks and had done so with glee. "That thing is...is a witch!"

"Stay alert, it could still be out there!"

Echoing from somewhere obscured by the dense fog rolling in from the icy waters, a voice sneered in Thalassian, "Such foolish mundanes, blinded by false religion. Compassion is not the strong suit of this quaint village. Paranoia shall infect generations to come, melting the solace you all once had! A hex upon all of you and descendents to come. And one day, my people will return to enact my vengeance!" Soft girlish laughter rang out, sending shivers down the spines of all whom had heard the curse.

Two simple words of a muddy fisherman summed up the amalgamation of the people of Salem: "Sunwell help us all."

xxx

Two Hundred Years Later

As noon breached the day and the sun peaking at it's zenith, a small group of young elves were finishing up a lesson about the leylines and the wards by the border that kept their land safe.

"Sir, can I ask you a question?" asked a slender figure in sea of students filing out of the classroom.

Tilting his head, the aging wizard asked, a weary lilt in his voice, "Shadowlight, if I recall correctly?" At a terse nod from the very young student, the magister queried, "What is it I can help you with, young sir? And don't tarry with your words."

Shaking his head, the blood elf said with worry in his voice as he spoke, "It's just...I'm not happy as a male. It's hard to explain...but I'll try my best. You see I've always had trouble getting into masculine things such as fighting, wrestling and spitting. It seems so childish to me and I'm still very young. I find books, flowers, animals and the sort far more worthy of my time. What I'm trying to say is, I want to be a girl. Yes, what I say probably sounds wrong, absurd and plain weird, but contemplations have guided me to what my heart tells me is the real me. I need to change my body to reflect my mind. C-could you help me?"

With tired eyes, Instructor Ebonfrost pinched the bridge of his nose, displacing his glasses. Fixing his sight enhancing eyewear, the wizened elf answered, "This is not the first time someone has come to me with a unique problem. But this is still quite unexpected. It's fortunate this is not Silvermoon or I dare say such a conversation would upset my superiors. Traditional old bats too stubborn to let go of traditional values. However, I'm not opposed lending a hand to those who need it. After all, we instructors are the guiding wisps that mould young minds onto the path to discovering brilliance, strength and righteousness."

"T-thank you sir."

"Think nothing of it, young lady. I suppose you ought to choose a suitable name to fit your womanly stature," suggested the teacher. "Also, I'd like you to seek out Erathimus and give him this letter. He will provide you with a tincture to help your problem and teach the recipe. It's fairly complex alchemy, but you'll want to be able to mix it properly when you aren't here in Quel'thalas or in Dalaran. You could be miles away from a major city that has a master at alchemy. So I think it'd be good to identify the herbs and reagents you'll need. That brings me to another point. The Kirin-Tor are interested in you for a reason that may have to do with why it's so hard for you to learn elemental or healing spells. I've noticed myself, that when you attempt to cast a basic healing rite or hymn. And when you try transformation spells, they explode in your face. Not to mention your arcane spells are mediocre at best."

Shrinking in despair at having her magic insulted, she whimpers and pleads, "I'll study harder."

"No, let me speak Lady Shadowlight. I don't think it's about you slacking off. It's more along the lines They have come to your guardian and a few of your instructors. You will live with a Mage up in Dalaran and study under them. There will be plenty of magic users capable of asking questions. Secure a flight south to Lordaeron and enter Dalaran. Or if you like, I can arrange an escort to guide you to your destination. Once there, give this missive to one of the Arch mages. After that task has been completed, you'll be in safe hands. Go now on your journey to womanhood, I must finish grading. I wish you luck. "

The feminine elf nodded, ecstatic and very grateful as she snatched her notes and rushed off, eager to begin his transformation into a her.

"She's destined to be terribly great at what she does, whether her intentions are good or ill to this world," murmured Magister Ebonfrost as his icy blue eyes watched his student leave his life forever.

A/N: I know it's short, but this is just the prologue into the actual story and to give some insight to background and to the WoW past.

So yeah, vote on what sort of female lover do you want Velanas to get with: Sylvanas, Jaina Night Elf priestess, a dark ranger, one of her summoning demons, a Draenei chick, a naga siren, an arrakoa (non cursed), a Druid of some kind or a priestess. I like forbidden love, so cross-faction, etc so that's in mind too.